Halfway to Heaven
by Morwen Maranwe
Summary: "He had seen it when he awoke.  The blood had smeared all over in places he himself couldn't have gotten it.  And there, on his taunt stomach, a rose in dried, blackened blood.  Just for him." H/D slash, Rated M! Contains rape, abuse, and foul language.


Author's notes PLEASE READ: I found this story hiding in my files from back when I was in high school (which was like 7 years ago, probably) and I was just going to upload it without going over it again...Luckily, I did! I hadn't ever written anything like this before and I haven't written anything like this since. I actually debated for a good 20 minutes about whether to post this or not. I'm still up in the air about whether posting it is a good idea, but I don't think it should just sit in the corner of my hard drive forever, and I don't want to delete it. Before you read it, please understand that it contains rape, abuse, foul language and is not for the light hearted! I don't know what came over me when I wrote it, because it was so long ago. I do remember that I listened to 'My Immortal' by Evanescence while I was writing. I'm sorry if this story offends anyone, that is not my intention.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Halfway to Heaven:~

He was back. In the cold, dark room Harry could see the shimmer of blue moonlight playing off the pale hair, the beads of sweat on the bare back, the tiny shadows that sat in the small dips of the bent vertebrae. Long fingers played across his naked stomach, tangling gently in the thin line of course hair that sat below his navel, trailing lower but teasing, never going further than the dip that defined Harry's almost flat abdomen.

Harry shivered. Any minute now he would feel it, the sudden, intense, searing heat; the feel of being sodomized without preparation, stretched dryly so that every movement chaffed and stung hideously. He was being crushed by the dense weight on top of him, the heat emanating from Draco doing nothing to block the intense cold of the room. Draco's sweat fell onto his own dry body in salty plops of perspiration, Draco's pants as he moved rhythmically inside of Harry the only sound in the still chamber as Harry lay on his back, arms stretched up over his head, legs spread apart to allow entry; this sacrifice to Draco.

Draco's hands were on him, goading the sensitized flesh of his hardened penis to become oversized and raw-looking from the ministrations. Draco's lips were soft and searching, a horrific contrast to the obscene act going on below. Teeth and tongue and spit mixed together to create a flaming world that almost made Harry forget that Draco currently had his own penis rammed up Harry's too-tight entrance. Without warning, Draco bit down harshly on Harry's bare shoulder, making him cry out loudly, a scream , bottled up for the past six months from the sheer fright and hopelessness and anger of what Draco was doing to him.

Had done to him.

Harry woke with a start, staring blankly around the darkened room. No sweat on his pajamas, not hard at all. Thank the gods for that small mercy. Once of that traitorous humiliation was enough. Even though it had been half a year ago, Harry doubted that he would ever be able to forget it. He could block out the feel of Draco on top of him, crushing him mercilessly; he could block out the sharp pain of Draco stabbing into him unprepared over and over and over; he could even block out the sound of Draco's heavy, happily labored breathing and his own cries, curses, pleas. The wet, sticky feel of his tears on his face could be easily kept at bay. The slick slapping sounds that their skin made as only Draco moved-in, out, in, out, in-could be ignored. But his body's reaction to the rape of his soul was going to remain forever.

And it wasn't so much that he _had_ been raped that traumatized Harry so much-of course, it was a large reason-but no, Draco was too sadistic to just leave it at that. He couldn't have just sodomized Harry's body, raped his mind. No. He had to make Harry enjoy it. Enjoy it so much that Harry had been hard the entire time he was being raped. And Draco had talked to him through it.

_"You like that, don't you, Harry? Like me ramming into you like this? You're such a little whore. Slut. Beg for me, Harry. Beg for me like the good little slut you are. Look at you, all hard over me. I bet you've never been this hard in your life. I'm going to make you come so hard you're going to pass out. And then, while you're unconscious, I'm going to fuck you raw, fuck you open. If you aren't bleeding and broken by the time I'm done with you, I'll just start all over again. And you'll like it. You'll love it."_

"I want you, Harry."

"I told you, Malfoy, I'm not like that."

"You don't seem to mind being like that with the other boys."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't act like you don't know! You probably let each one fuck you every night in turn, one right after the other until your raw and so loose the last doesn't even need lubricant."

"You're perverted, Malfoy."

"You're mine, Harry."

"And delusional, too."

"You're mine, and don't forget it. Mine only. Mine to have, mine to keep and mine to love. Mine to fuck. What would you do if I decided I wanted to jerk you off right here?"

"Don't, Malfoy-!"

"So hot, even through your trousers. So big..."

"Fucking _pervert_! Get the fuck off!"

"I could jerk you off just like this, up against the wall. Then make you hard again and make you fuck my mouth. Oh, fuck _yes_..."

"Sick bastard!"

"But that's how you like them, right Harry? Sick? It makes the fucking that much better. That much rougher. Oh, it can be very rough..."

"Get _off me_, Malfoy!"

"I want you, Harry. I'm so fucking hard for you. Feel me, yes, like that, _oh_...fuck, so hard. Could you take me in your wet little mouth, Harry, your tight little hole? Could you take me ramming you up against a wall, my hard dick in your soft, sweet mouth, leaking over your lips?"

"You're one sick fuck, Malfoy."

"The only way you like it. I want you, and I will have you. You'd better be careful, Harry. I don't like jerking myself off to just an image of you in my head. I want you under me, screaming my name, crying, coming for me. And I'll have it soon."

Harry remembered that Draco used to glow. Really _glow_. The light would catch in his cornsilk hair, bounce off of his alabaster skin, catch in his liquid silver eyes. And he would become _radiant_.

And Harry had absolutely loved it once. Even in the moonlit room Draco had glowed. As he plowed into Harry mercilessly he had shone blue in the night. The sweat on his bare skin had lit up like tiny fireflies, the halo of hair on his head had an overtone of purple while the wiry hair around his genitalia took on a dusky gray in the shadows against Harry's body.

Draco had left Harry there when he was done with him. Bleeding, broken, just like he promised. Harry had passed out from the pain and hopelessness before Draco had even orgasmed, and he was sure that the blonde had taken advantage of his unconscious body like he had said he would.

"_Take it like you love it, you cheap whore. Faggot. You did this, Harry. You made me do this to you. You wanted it, didn't you, you horny little slut. Yeah, and only I could give it to you like this. The way you like it. The way you love to be fucked."_ He kissed Harry's shoulder, his chest banging against Harry's as he pounded into him furiously, although his mouth never left Harry's skin. _"You taste so fucking good. You're so goddamn tight for a slut. You're just begging to be raped, to be taken. But that's only for me."_ He nuzzled the bleeding bite mark he had made on the spot he had previously been kissing. _"Only me."_

When he had woken up, Harry had not been able to move. Too sore, too painful. The blood had dried on and around him. So much. Was all that his?

Violated, dirty, used. They all ran through his mind. _He had it coming_. Will always have it coming. It only belongs to _him._

"_So beautiful. So pretty. Pretty for fucking. Pretty for hurting, for breaking, pretty for bleeding. Your blood would look so nice spread all over you, on your dick so that you can fuck me. So that I can taste all of you when I take you in my mouth. I could draw a picture on you in your blood-for you. A red rose for your lost innocence."_

He had seen it when he awoke. The blood had smeared all over in places he himself couldn't have gotten it. And there, on his taunt stomach, a rose in dried, blackened blood. Just for him.

He had showered just as soon as he could move. D_irty_. Just sat under the stream of scaling hot water-_violated-_-letting rivulets of watered down blood run down the drain. But the picture had stayed, vibrant red. And it wasn't until later that Harry realized Draco had cut it into him, tattooed permanently. He saw it on his stomach even when his eyes were closed, when he was sleeping, when he was dreaming about that night _again_.

And every night he felt those hands on him. Rubbing him, scratching him, bruising him. Pushing aside the flesh of his backside to jam a finger roughly into him, nail scratching at the muscle. Ramming his tongue so far down Harry's throat that he would gag and choke on the honey thickness, tears welling up in his eyes and spilling over the closed lids as the rubbing was successful, and Harry was pushing up against Draco shamelessly, the tears coming in torrents.

Draco licked them away. _"All mine."_

Harder, faster, deeper, hotter. Dear God, had he said all those things? Screamed them out while Draco raped him raw, fucked him bleeding. Killed him softly.

Yes.

Still harder, still faster, still deeper, please please please. More. More. No, don't slow down, fuck me more. Yes. You. Only you. I did deserve it just please don't stop. It's all my fault just don't slow down. Have me. Keep me. _Please_.

Gone. Nothing, no one, alone. Gone.

Alone.

No one.

_Please!_

Blood again. And again. So much. Deep crimson pools that slid slickly over his erection, that lubricated muscle and flesh and gurgled as the two slid past each other. Fingerprints all over each other in that dull color of dried rose-petal red. His own rose gushing juices down his stomach in sticky sheets, streams getting caught in the crevices of their bodies, drying and caking grossly.

More, more, more.

Gone.

Never there.

But he was so full. So full of Draco. So hot. Blinding white.

Have me keep me _love me_.

No.


End file.
